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Hera really hadn't missed battle droids. She's not sure whether they could be worse than Stormtroopers, but if it's possible, she's sure the Empire has found a way. Stormtroopers, on occasion, had rumblings of a conscience under their buckets. That could be programmed out of droids. So the Empire's announcement that it would be commissioning new droid armies to help it maintain order on Mid- and Outer Rim worlds was far from welcome. Apparently the Emperor's new incursions in to the Unknown Regions and Wild Space were requiring more and more troops, leaving fewer available to police its assets closer to home. It had been a dearly needed boon to the Rebellion.

They'll see how long that lasts.

But once they'd heard reports that the Empire was planning a ceremony for a new, enormous droid factory on Arkanis, passed only among Imperial channels rather than broadcast publicly, Phoenix Squadron couldn't pass it up. That news of the ceremony was only passed through private Imperial channels meant it was likely to be attended by several high-ranking Empire officials. Most knew better than to publicly announce their whereabouts these days.

There was enough discontent with the Empress that the Rebellion had long-established contacts on the Regency Worlds, including Arkanis. It was easy enough to acquire spies among those constructing the new factories, and over a matter of months, through very careful steps, to acquire blueprints for the final facility. With this, the rebels could formulate the mission they were currently carrying out – setting explosives to destroy the facility, while the Imperials were inside.

The ceremony, as the rebels had anticipated, means that any remaining construction workers or factory staff have been cleared from the building. Only a handful of event staff are permitted to enter the factory, and even they are kept off the factory floor. The ceremony is largely attended to by droids, who serve the food and drink the Imperials enjoy while watching the newly minted factory lines roll out trooper droids – they're broad-shouldered, steel-plated, supposedly much sturdier and stronger than the old Separatist droids.

Hera knows she likely shouldn't have come in person. But even after all these years, Imperials rarely recognize her. A Twi'lek service worker is not out of place, and the troopers who check her credentials barely flicker a second glance to her before permitting her inside. From there, she mopped floors and checked light bulbs long enough to review the spots they'd set out, the rotation of the server droids, before cornering one such droid in a side hall. If all went according to plan, Hera and four other compatriots, two with reprogrammed droid accomplices, would set charges within and just outside the main factory floor, where the Imperials were gathered.

She finishes her work without incident, then taps her comm once to signal the others, before passing the doors to the main floor, not throwing even a glance through the windows to catch a glimpse of the party as she heads to a side hall that she knows eventually leads to an exit.

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One corner of his mouth twitches, but it's difficult to tell whether it's trending up or down.

Then --

"If we must."

He tosses the grate behind him and away from Syndulla, the motion decisive.

Hera watches the grate hit the floor, skittering away from her. Then, she turns, retrieving the droid head, and tossing it up into the vent first, listening to it clatter along above them.

It's a little promising, at least.

Then, using the wall to help her up again, Hera jumps, her hands now reaching to grip the edge of the vent. She bends her arms and, rather smoothly, pulls herself up into it.

Thrawn is a bit too heavy to make use of such a maneuver, but he does have some skill at free-climbing, and with the way debris is stacked -- and the ways in which the walls crumbled -- he manages to find enough toe- and footholds to make it work.

He'll also enter the vent feet-first, because he fully expects that Hera will attempt to render him unconscious, perhaps with the droid-head.

She would never.

She's just holding that droid head for light.

Regardless, she just says, "The other way's blocked off." Before heading in the direction that, at least as far as can be seen from this point, is still open enough for them to move through.

Thrawn, of course, takes a moment to investigate that for himself.

It's not that he doesn't trust Syndulla's evaluation, but --

Well. No one in this current narrow passageway is a fool.

Hera doesn't wait, but only because she knows he'll be along soon enough. And she'd rather be the first to get the lay of whatever land they come across.

While the vent itself remains intact, the rooms they open into are piled with rubble or thick with smoke. A turn off that would have led back to the factory floor where the ceremony had been held is completely crushed. Not that there was any reason to go back there.

But eventually, Hera shines the droid's eyes lights down into a room that is very dark, but at least appears to be intact, and mostly free of dust or smoke.

Thrawn keeps his motions as quiet as he can, in part of out of old habit and in part because perhaps he doesn't want to be found, just yet.

"I can't imagine you didn't obtain plans to the facility before this point, but I think, perhaps, we have reached one of the assembly-and-storage points for the factory floor."

Or thereabouts.

"That would mean a route to the loading bays."

Which would be an exit. And yes, she hadn't needed Thrawn to tell her that.

But Hera reaches out toward the grate, testing its strength and moving her fingers to find the bolts attaching it.

Thrawn's voice is very dry --

"Considering the Empire's budget consciousness and dislike of attending to petty details, I am fairly certain a judicious kick will knock that vent cover right out."

Because honestly.

"Are you offering?"

Maybe it's a trap. Or maybe it's just that while she has the advantage of flexibility, he likely has more strength for this.

"Provided you leave the droid head out of both of our reach."

He's already shifting so as to take Syndulla's position, should she decide to start moving.

Hera waits a moment, but then slips away, and tosses the droid head down along the vent, its lights flashing along with it.

Thrawn actually does make a small grunt of effort this time, twisting sideways in the passage so that he can brace his feet against the vent, position himself and his knees to get the greatest leverage --

CRASH

There's nothing quiet about it, but the way ahead of them is now free and clear. For the moment.

"We'll likely want the head back, I imagine. For the lights."

"Do you want to jump down first and I'll get it?"

She's already moving to retrieve the head.

"[Danger before and danger behind]," Thrawn mutters in Sy Bisti, and levers himself out of the vent, tucking and rolling once he's dropped to the ground.

If it gets him farther from the vent mouth, so much the better. Syndulla might throw that droid head, and then where will they be?

In the dark ahead, something crackles and pops, a bright spark of light that is just as quickly extinguished.

Hmm.

Hera, meanwhile, does retrieve the head.

And she might consider throwing it at Thrawn. But by the time she makes it back to the vent's opening, he's moved enough that it wouldn't be worth the effort. Instead, she drops down to the floor, somehow only making a very soft thump as she does.

Thrawn half-turns at the sound, keeping Syndulla on his left and whatever sparked in the distance on his right.

"There may be a malfunctioning droid in here, I remain . . . uncertain."

He gestures in the direction from which the spark came, one eyebrow raised.

"If you wouldn't mind using its brethren's severed head for illumination."

"In a factory this size there might be emergency supplies for the workers."

Still, Hera lifts the droid head to point it toward the sparks. "But this is the Empire."

So she's not looking for anything.

More sparks leap up from what looks to be a smashed control panel, but obviously the power's on somewhere.

"That seems to be precisely what we need right now," Thrawn observes. "Fire."

Which is to say, perhaps he'll make his way in that direction and attempt to, as it were, pull the plug.

"And it didn't manage to catch."

Hera lets herself sound disappointed.

"Such unnoticed self-sacrifice doesn't seem to be your forte these days," Thrawn observes mildly, putting his back to the sparking equipment even as he digs into the guts of the system, pulling out the power -- and back-up power -- devices from the damaged equipment.

Both of these will likely come in handy.

Soon.

Dully -

"Did I hurt your feelings, Thrawn?"

"Deeply."

His own voice is very dry, and punctuated with a faint grunt of effort as he stands again.

There are a lot of bruises under his sooty uniform.

The Rebellion is cruel.

"Schutta meulla," Hera answers, her voice low.

"Let us save the commiseration for later," Thrawn says, turning so that Syndulla is fully within his field of view.

If it also allows him to look out past her, toward where several of the doors to this particular storage facility used to be --

That is only sensible.